The Most Beautiful Christmas Gift: Surgery for Chronic Pain That Is Transforming My Life

Disclaimer — This article is dedicated to Dr. Antonios El-Helou, an extraordinary neurosurgeon, and to Simon Bogue from St. Jude Medical. You have my eternal gratitude.

Yesterday, I received the most beautiful Christmas gift imaginable: a surgery that treats my occipital neuralgia and will finally allow me to live without pain — or at the very least, with pain that is now manageable. I write these words with immense emotion. It is still almost inconceivable to me that I have just opened a new chapter in my life, after 34 years marked by constant, dull, overwhelming suffering… a pain I learned to live with, but above all, to hide.

For decades, this pain was part of me. It shaped my choices, my silences, my survival strategies. And today, for the first time, I can begin to imagine a life in which it is no longer the centre of gravity.

Understanding Occipital Neuralgia

If you would like to learn more about occipital neuralgia, I invite you to read the piece I wrote about this condition two years ago. Essentially, it is an irritation or compression of the greater occipital nerve, located at the back of the skull, which causes intense head pain: electric shock–like sensations, sharp stabbing pain, the feeling of burning needles piercing the head.

I began experiencing these electric shocks around the age of 12, while figure skating. I have no clear memory of a head injury — often cited as a possible cause — but it is entirely plausible that a bad fall on the ice triggered it. After all, “hard wipeouts,” as we used to say, were part of everyday life when attempting aerial rotations and imperfect landings.

Because the pain initially appeared only sporadically, I quickly learned to internalize it. I spoke about it less and less, discouraged by being told it was “all in my head.” This internalization deepened through years of medical consultations. It’s worth noting that occipital neuralgia has only been medically recognized for about 15 years, which partly explains the silence surrounding this condition during my adolescence and early adulthood.

The Diagnosis… Finally

It wasn’t until 2019 that what I had been living with finally had a name, thanks to my neurologist, Dr. Mario Alvarez, and neurosurgeon Dr. Dhany Charest, who confirmed the diagnosis. After several treatment attempts — medications such as carbamazepine, corticosteroid injections to block the nerve — the results proved insufficient.

In April 2019, a particularly intense episode changed everything. The pain, which had previously been intermittent, became permanent. It settled into my daily life, profoundly altering my quality of life. It was at that point that Dr. Charest recommended I consult his colleague, Dr. Antonios El-Helou, known for his forward-thinking approach to chronic pain treatment. I agreed. And a few months later, I met the person who would, without yet knowing it, change my life forever.

When Surgery for Chronic Pain Becomes a Turning Point

After determining that conservative treatments could not eliminate the pain, I agreed, in the spring of 2020, to pursue a surgical option: occipital nerve stimulation, also known as neuromodulation.

This procedure involves stimulating the occipital nerve using electrical impulses delivered by a neuromodulator implanted under the skin. The tingling sensation produced by the stimulation aims to modify the pain signal — either by preventing it from reaching the brain or by disrupting it enough to alter the perception of pain.

Health Canada approved this procedure only in 2018, although it has been practiced in Europe since 2011. Dr. El-Helou is among the few neurosurgeons in Canada who perform this type of surgery and who train their peers in treating chronic neuropathic pain. I was, quite literally, in the best possible hands.

The COVID-19 pandemic, however, delayed the surgery by 18 months.

The procedure takes place in two stages. The first is a trial period, during which the neuromodulator is implanted under general anesthesia, while the wires and battery remain outside the body. This phase allows the effectiveness of the device to be evaluated: sleeping, functioning, living — and most importantly, measuring the reduction in pain. The neuromodulator is controlled via a mobile app, allowing the intensity of the stimulation to be adjusted.

In my case, the change was spectacular. After the trial device was implanted on November 22, the pain simply disappeared. And when the stimulator was removed on December 8, the pain returned just as quickly. The contrast was striking — night and day.

The second procedure, which I underwent yesterday, involves permanently implanting the wire and battery beneath the skin. I joke that I am now somewhat of a bionic woman, with a battery hidden in my back — to the point that I will need to carry an Abbott implant card when travelling through airports.

What Pain Took From Me

As I explained my journey to the nurses yesterday, before and after surgery, emotion overwhelmed me. I am writing these lines with tears in my eyes. Revisiting all the strategies I developed to survive the pain has made me realize just how deeply it infiltrated every aspect of my life.

The fear of pain in public. The anxiety of crying out or groaning during a conference, a speech, a professional engagement. Constant mental preparation: locating exits and washrooms, planning a quick escape. Cancelling events. Needing the reassuring presence of my partner as a safety net.

Giving up CrossFit, a sport I deeply loved, for fear of reliving an episode in front of others. Tears held back at the hair salon. Silent humiliation.

Insomnia. Being awakened at night by pain. The fear of falling back asleep.The exhaustion that accumulates.

Working through pain. Carrying on as if nothing were wrong. Creating the illusion that everything is fine, even when the pain reaches unbearable levels. The frustration of not being understood. And the immense gratitude toward my partner, who learned to read my silences, my expressions, my survival mechanisms.

Secondary pain: migraines, headaches, extreme sensitivity at the back of my head, as though I had been struck with a baseball bat.

And social isolation. Awkward comments. Miracle solutions suggested. Endless attempts: dietary changes, supplements, therapies, acupuncture, reiki… until slowly withdrawing, pulling back, feeling misunderstood.

A New Chapter

Today, a new chapter begins. Words fail me when it comes to expressing the immense gratitude I feel toward all those who walked this path with me — especially Dr. Alvarez, Dr. Charest, and above all, Dr. Antonios El-Helou. Beyond his exceptional expertise, he is a deeply human, compassionate, and attentive individual. We are incredibly fortunate to have him here in New Brunswick.

This surgery is the most beautiful Christmas gift I could have received. It is already transforming my life. If this text can help even one person living with occipital neuralgia discover that such a treatment exists, then it will have fulfilled its purpose. I will always be happy to share my experience.

Merry Christmas to each and every one of you.

Mine is already filled with hope.

One step at a time, into a new chapter. After years of pain, the way forward is finally becoming clear.